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“Ah, there you are Jamie,” said the Doctor, crashing through the undergrowth. There was the TARDIS, and there was Jamie. He’d been sitting hunched on the ground, but at the sight of the Doctor he was rising to his feet. “Sorry for the hold up – you know how these things can get rather, ah, complicated. You see, I was on my way back, but – oof!”
Jamie barrelled into him like an overexcited dog, almost sending them both tumbling to the ground. He wrapped his arms around the Doctor and clung on tight, and instinctively the Doctor hugged back. “My goodness,” he said, holding back laughter. “It’s very nice to see you too, Jamie.”
But then Jamie spoke, his voice low and rough, and ice ran through the Doctor’s veins. “I thought you were dead.”
The Doctor said, “Jamie, I.” He didn’t know how to go on. He didn’t know what else he could say.
Jamie drew back and the Doctor saw for the first time how pale he was, how haggard. He must have sat by the TARDIS all night – not waiting for the Doctor, but mourning him. A vigil beside a corpse. “They told me you died.”
“Who told you?” the Doctor said, indignant despite his anxiety. Really, him dead! Of all the ideas.
“I thought I lost you.” Jamie’s hand squeezed his shoulder, rubbing circles through the thick cloth of his coat. “I thought – I really thought – you’re alright?”
“Of course,” the Doctor reassured him. “I’m absolutely fine. Fit as a fiddle.” Jamie was starting to cry, a tear running a trail down his grubby cheek. The Doctor cupped his face, wiping the tear away with his thumb.
“You’re here,” said Jamie. “You came back – God, I thought –” Words failed him. He pressed his lips to the Doctor’s palm and while the Doctor was still reeling from the soft, intimate touch Jamie leaned forward and kissed his forehead, his temple, hand cupping the back of his head, stroking his hair.
“Jamie,” the Doctor breathed, his eyes falling closed. Jamie kissed his cheek, his nose, their foreheads brushing together, Jamie’s breath tickling his lips. “It’s alright. I – I’m alright.”
He ran a hand down Jamie’s back, soothing him. He felt Jamie take a few deep breaths. And then, his eyes opening, Jamie stepped away. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” said the Doctor.
“For getting all – you know.” Jamie rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I havenae slept since – I’m no’ sure.”
“It’s alright.” The Doctor touched Jamie’s arm, pawing at him, wanting him closer. “You can kiss me, if you like. It’s quite alright.”
“I, erm,” said Jamie. “Really?”
“Really,” the Doctor echoed. He touched Jamie’s face, stroking his cheek, drawing him in for a proper kiss.
Later, in the TARDIS, Jamie slept, his head pillow on the Doctor’s lap; and when he woke, his hair tousled, soft and muzzy with sleep, the Doctor kissed him again.
Jamie nuzzled him, and sighed, and said, “mo chridhe. Don’t scare me like that again.”
“Never,” the Doctor swore, and for once he meant it.